


Idle Tongues

by IneffableDoll



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Banter, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, merciless teasing is a love language all its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableDoll/pseuds/IneffableDoll
Summary: “Oh, oh – do you remember, in ’65?” Crowley said, pointing a finger in Aziraphale’s face as he held back giggles. “With the radio?”Aziraphale huffed. “It’s hardly my fault that-““It is entirely your fault that your grasp on modern technology is so disastrous that you mixed up a transistor radio with a rolling flip clock. A radio and a clock are two completely different things, angel.”~~~~Crowley and Aziraphale reminiscence about old temptations and blessings they did for each other (and get distracted by several other topics). Pointless, light-hearted banter.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 64
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Idle Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ICarryDeathOnMyWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICarryDeathOnMyWings) for inspiring the idea and to [thealienmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme) for helping enable me. Was supposed to just be banter but I couldn’t help but also make it hella fluff. Allow me my foibles.

“Oh, oh – do you remember, in ’65?” Crowley said, pointing a finger in Aziraphale’s face as he held back giggles. “With the radio?”

Aziraphale huffed. “It’s hardly my fault that-“

“It is _entirely_ your fault that your grasp on modern technology is so disastrous that you mixed up a transistor radio with a rolling flip clock. A radio and a clock are two _completely_ different things, angel.”

It was nightfall and nearing midnight, the city growing quieter around them but never truly sleeping. The angel and demon had met up earlier that day to feed the ducks, and that turned into dinner, which turned into drinks at the bookshop. Which had now turned into, as it always seemed to, reflecting on bygone days and old, fond memories.

A nicer way of saying that Crowley was teasing him for something that been _utterly accidental and not his fault, thank you kindly._

“I’ll have you know,” Aziraphale pointed out as he poured his third glass, glancing out of the corner of his eye to his companion across the sofa, “that I am much more ‘up-to-date’ than you think. I spent a _whole afternoon_ just this last week researching the walking mens people keep on their belts.”

“Angel-“ Crowley raked his fingers over his face.

“I cannot be blamed just because the, ah, termination radiophone and the flipping clock look so similar.”

“You are actually killing me…”

“It worked out in the end!” Aziraphale insisted. “The job was to tempt her to steal a radio, but I’d say stealing a clock is just as nefarious.”

Crowley rolled his eyes with a dramatic groan, lips twitching in a smile he was failing to hide. “Gneehh, okay, sure it worked out alright. But that’s only because you have a perfectionism streak a mile wide.”

Aziraphale took a prim sip. “Need I even point out the irony of _you_ saying that?”

“Shut it, you keep my garden out of-“

“The way you talk to them is-“

Crowley placed a finger over his lips. “It _works,_ doesn’t it?”

Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that. Taking Crowley’s wrist and removing his finger from his person, he said, “Well, what _about_ my perfectionism, then? I like things done the way they should. Hardly a sin.”

“Nah, ‘course not,” Crowley agreed, sliding down in his seat and tossing his feet into Aziraphale’s lap. “I just mean, you’re almost annoyingly detail-oriented when you want to be. Like how you’ve never botched a single temptation you did for me, over the years, not even with your radio slip.”

Aziraphale preened a bit at that, despite knowing it was exactly the sort of thing an angel was not supposed to take pride in – being good at a demon’s job. “You, likewise, always performed remarkably on your blessings.”

“Bah.” Crowley waved a hand at him as though brushing the words away. “We’d have to be good to keep it up so long, and to convince our Head Offices there was nothing up.”

Aziraphale smiled and set his free hand over a bared, scaly ankle, absentmindedly rubbing it, fingertips gliding between flesh and scales. “Still. I was always very impressed. You would’ve earned me commendations if Heaven did that sort of thing.”

Crowley shrugged, though something in his eyes softened. “I know for a fact that Hell has given me commendations for your work practically as often as my own. Maybe more.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Remember Scotland? Edinburgh? I think I got something for that one.”

Aziraphale settled into his side of the couch happily, reflecting, massaging. “Ah, of course. That clan leader I had to tempt, in the…17th century, yes. He was one of the more difficult ones, actually. Took me multiple days to convince him to go after the other clan’s bovines!”

“Ha! Glad I didn’t have to deal with that.” He sniffed. “I had a suspicion it’d be a pain. ‘S why I left it to you to deal with.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “Why you left it to…but, Crowley…didn’t we flip for it? Remember, at the Globe?”

Crowley grinned at him. “Did you know, angel, that there are some coins with tails…on both sides?”

“Oh? Oh!” Aziraphale put down his glass firmly, frowning. “You – you are _utterly_ incorrigible! You _cheated!”_

“Still a demon, angel.” He didn’t even try to hide his pleased smirk, swishing the wine around in his glass carelessly.

Aziraphale pretended he was annoyed for a few more seconds, squeezing Crowley’s ankle before sighing indulgently. “I suppose you did make _Hamlet_ the play of the year – of the century, I daresay – so I’ll overlook it. _Just_ this once.”

Crowley pumped his fist victoriously and obnoxiously.

“Though, if we want to talk about near-misses…” Aziraphale glanced up at his friend slyly. “I can’t help but think of the first blessing you did for me.”

Crowley scowled. “Listen-“

“I thought it’d be a good way to ease you into it, and then you-“

“Yeah, yeah, go on! Laugh at my expense.”

Aziraphale didn’t laugh. He beamed fondly, knowing Crowley would find that so much worse. “I thought it was so sweet, my dear. All you had to do was bless a pregnant woman with good health. And you, in your overzealousness-“

“Accidentally blessed every pregnant woman within a 100-kilometer radius, yeah, yeah.”

“Lots of healthy mothers and healthy kids,” Aziraphale added happily.

Crowley’s face was red as he shrugged and glared into his wine. “Just didn’t wanna mess it up.”

Aziraphale heart panged in sympathy and his fond smile became somehow fonder, more grounded. “I know. You were always very careful. It just excited you.”

“I thought it would be harder, was the thing,” Crowley continued. “A demon, doing good? I figured it only made sense it would take more effort. It’s like – expecting something you pick up to be way heavier than it is, so you use more force than necessary, and the thing goes flying!” He emphasized this by flinging his arm in a wide arc.

Aziraphale nodded in understanding. “Yes, I was very surprised at how, well, easy it was to just…slip into that role over time. I had moral hang-ups, but I knew if I failed, it’d be _you_ who got in trouble. So…that’s why I was such a perfectionist, as you put it.” He retrieved his wine again and took a sip, studiously looking elsewhere and feeling Crowley’s eyes boring into him.

“I can’t even tease you for your first temptation,” Crowley said softly. “You were flawless.”

“You _certainly_ didn’t make it easy for me.”

Crowley flung an arm along the back of the sofa cushions and grinned, sharp teeth on full display. “What, it was just a simple thing! Tempting a priest to gluttony. Figured that was right up your alley, angel.”

“But it was a man of the cloth! I was so overwhelmed!”

“And yet you did it as meticulously as you organize your books.” Crowley cackled. “Someone, your face when I told you your target…I almost thought you’d just back right out of the Arrangement before it’d really begun. Was already kicking myself for it when you finally said you’d take care of it.”

“Well…I simply figured that I had a built-in excuse to be there. No one in Heaven could take issue with me being in a church, after all.”

Crowley took a long swig of his wine, finishing it off with a dramatic sigh. “And I, for one, had no interest in loitering outside the front doors to catch him on his way out somewhere. Boring.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I admit, I didn’t much like the idea of you being anywhere near a church, either. You gave me quite a fright in the ‘40s, you know.”

“Mm. Well, wouldn’t’ve had to if you weren’t such a feather-brained spy.”

Aziraphale leaned over to refill Crowley’s glass, vaguely offended. “Well, that’s just…I…Alright, I concede that isn’t one of my stronger skillsets.”

Crowley dramatically placed a hand over his chest, grinning madly. “Whereas I, the dashing, heroic, handsome demon I am, waltzed down the aisle to rescue you from your own, ridiculous demise…”

“Jumping about like you were dancing one of those sock hops…”

“Oi! It looked _nothing_ like a – mmm. Okay, no, I can see that, actually. Wrong decade, though.”

“Oh, I can never keep track of when these dances are ‘in.’ They come and go so fast.”

Crowley smiled and toasted the air. “And we have time to appreciate all of them, now.”

Aziraphale beamed back, bending close to clink his glass against Crowley’s. “So we do.”

Crowley smirked mischievously before pressing a fleeting kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. He immediately took a long drink with a satisfied hum, watching Aziraphale blush out of the corner of his eye.

“Fiend,” the angel muttered, and decided not to move back to his half of the couch, resettling a hand over Crowley’s knee. “You’re not nearly drunk enough to be so affectionate.”

Crowley shrugged a little, heat rising on his face, as well. “Don’t be a bastard ‘bout it.”

“Me? I’m an _angel,_ I’d _never.”_

“He says with a smirk.”

“It’s not a smirk, it’s an angelic smile full of grace.”

“Is it any wonder you were so good with temptations when you can do an expression like that?”

Aziraphale purposefully schooled his face into something soft and pleading. “Whatever might you mean, darling?”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me, angel.”

“Don’t ‘angel’ me, dar-“

Crowley kissed him mid-word, pulling him closer with a hand around the angel’s neck. Aziraphale quite forgot whatever they’d been discussing by the time they pulled apart a moment later, both bright red and breathless, despite neither of those things being at all necessary.

“Sh-Showed you,” Crowley murmured.

“You’re an old fool,” Aziraphale replied, beaming.

“Oi-“

“A sappy, old demon.”

“I’m not-“

“A very _nice_ demon, too.”

“GAH!” Crowley smushed his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder, both arms at some point having wrapped around the angel’s soft middle. “Why on _Earth_ do I put up with you?!”

“Because _I_ put up with _you.”_

“Mrrgh.”

The angel wondered vaguely where their glasses had gone to while they were kissing and ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, the other snaking around his back to pull him closer. Crowley struggled to accept affection after so long without, but Aziraphale was secure in the knowledge that he didn’t actually hate it, despite the protesting.

After a moment, Aziraphale spoke. “Why did you bring up that radio, anyway?”

“Hmm?” Crowley sounded drowsy.

“From the temptation in the 1960s.”

“Oh, right.” The demon drew back and raised his eyebrows. “My point is that you should steer clear of my radio system.”

“I was only _looking-“_

“Then how, exactly, did I end up with albums for Chaucer, Vivaldi, and Schubert that I never added?”

“I just assumed that you would have some _proper_ music in your collection, and not just rolling rocks.”

Crowley looked at him blankly. “You’re doing this on purpose. I _know_ you are.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together to contain a smile. “I haven’t the slightest as to what I infer you’re implying.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible before disentangling and swaggering off to the rack for another bottle. “What’re you feeling?” he called from around the corner. “Shiraz, grenache, malbec?”

“Oh, whatever you like, love.”

There was the crash of splintering glass followed by a snap. “D-Don’t! You can’t just-“ Crowley’s indignant head poked out from the other room. “I’m not used to it yet! You gotta warn me!”

“You kissed me on the cheek earlier. Consider it revenge.”

Crowley scowled, face as red as his hair, before disappearing again to wordlessly retrieve what was very likely going to be one of Aziraphale’s least favorite wines on principle. It was Aziraphale’s collection, however, so even his least favorite was still much enjoyed.

Without any ado, Crowley plopped himself right into Aziraphale’s lap when he returned, crossing his ankles over the barren half of the sofa and slinging an arm around the angel’s shoulders. “I’m taking a nap after this bottle,” he declared simply, popping it open. “You can read or whatever.”

Aziraphale found their missing glasses floating in the air, both willingly empty for the new arrival. “I’m sure I can keep myself occupied, of course. Organizing, researching, what have you.”

Crowley shrugged as he filled the two glasses. “I mean I’m sleeping here, on you, and you’re just going to have to suck it up. You’re warm and I’m not moving again, so _there.”_

Trying to look properly upset and knowing he was failing, Aziraphale hmphed. “Well, it seems I have no choice. I cannot resist your wiles.”

“’Course not. What kinda demon would I be if you could?”

Aziraphale pecked him on the nose. “Any demon but yourself,” he replied simply. “You’re the only one who can annoy me into surrender.”

Crowley cackled, eyes soft and teasing. “Thankfully, I have plenty of experience annoying you.”

“You _are_ stellar at it.”

Crowley clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s yet again. “Likewise, you bastard. You _know_ it’s called a Walkman.”


End file.
